Even when Lambert first deposits him in the box, the crow doesn't move. He carries on being still save for a quick, small cock of his head, beady eyes following where Lambert goes after he steps away. Once it's apparent he's going to occupy himself with the computer rather than, say, poking or prodding at his new house guest, then he'll stand on his spindly little bird legs and go to investigate the dish of water and the food.

The first inclination is to pounce on it all, though the inclusion of the dog kibble strikes him as offensive. If the man knows he can understand him, why offer dog food? But the greedy bird part of his brain doesn't care, finding the urge to eat around those stupid. It's a struggle (and also a reason why staying in one form too long is generally bad). In the end, he fights through the bird-brained idea and picks a piece of kibble up, tossing it out of the box and onto the floor with a little clatter of noise.

He doesn't have the strength to send it bouncing off of Lambert's head, which is probably for the best. One kibble, two, three, yeah, he's removing those, no thanks. If Lambert turns to look, he'll just puff up and croak back at him, looking as offended as an injured crow can. It's kind of silly, to be quite honest.